


Wherein a Sneaky Foot Massage Leads to Smut

by little_seahorse



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Fluff, M/M, Pining, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_seahorse/pseuds/little_seahorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta'd & Britpicked by the wonderful fr333bird. Any remaining mistakes are my own.<br/>Originally posted at my livejournal on June 21, 2011.</p><p>Partly inspired by the delicious 'Deft,' by psmithery & mizufae</p><p>Dedicated to elirwen, for her birthday x</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wherein a Sneaky Foot Massage Leads to Smut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elirwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/gifts).



> Beta'd & Britpicked by the wonderful fr333bird. Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
> Originally posted at my livejournal on June 21, 2011.
> 
> Partly inspired by the delicious 'Deft,' by psmithery & mizufae
> 
> Dedicated to elirwen, for her birthday x

  
Arthur Pendragon dislikes hearing words like 'silver-spoon,' and 'spoilt,' and 'privileged.'   


No. He more than dislikes them, he fucking hates them. He overhears them at parties, whispered with sneers by people smoking cigarettes, hand-rolled with the cheapest tobacco available.   
He ignores the hypocritical twats, who come from the same kind of wealth that he does. They could afford to smoke the best stuff all day long, but don't in a fucked-up fashion statement.

It was hardly his fault, being born a Pendragon. The sneering wankers who bitched about him in his lectures and in the library, and behind glasses of cask wine at parties apparently thought otherwise. They've seen his surname in the finance pages and they think they know him.

Monetarily privileged he may have been, but Arthur had earned his place at college. He'd earned his spot with his own hard work.

By the time Arthur’s halfway through his first year reading History, he's learned to keep to himself. The people around him have already made assumptions and come to conclusions about the kind of person he is, all without speaking a word to him directly.

It's lonely, but he pushes the sting of it aside, and works harder. But by the time he breaks before second semester in his second year, Arthur has had enough.

He's sick of spending all of his time in isolation, diligently researching and drafting his papers, practicing in a mirror for his orals. He's fed up with the empty flat he goes home to every night and wakes up in every morning.

Arthur's sick of going for weeks between hearing his phone ring. He can no longer remember the last time anybody knocked on his door who wasn't delivering mail or food or news of the Good Word.

He comes to a decision, and shoots a short email to his sister before shrugging on his red jacket and heading to the college library.

***

The first three calls he makes are dead-ends. The rooms being advertised had already been let, the notices on the boards in the library just hadn't been taken down. The next person who answers hangs up when Arthur gives his name. He tries two more, and for these the tone rings in his ear for a whole minute before he gives up.

He's about ready to kick over a nearby trolley loaded with books, when somebody approaches and stands beside him, pushing two mismatched pins into a half-sheet of paper over the cork-board.

Arthur watches the man, who is the same height as him, but far thinner. He has exceptionally dark hair, and ridiculously large ears. Arthur realises he's probably stared long enough, and shifts his eyes to read the note the man's just put up.

  
Flatmate wanted.   
1 room available in 2 room flat. Shared kitchen, bath, living.   
LGBT friendly.   
£60 a week.   


Dickheads need not apply.

Contact Merlin: memrys01@gmail.com

  
Arthur quickly re-reads the notice, and whips around, spying the man, Merlin, standing between two towering shelves, scanning the rows. He pulls the note from the board and hurries over to him, clearing his throat to get his attention.   


When the man looks up at him, his mouth goes quite suddenly dry.

He extends his hand and introduces himself, "Arthur," hoping to cover his long silence. This doesn't appear to work, going by the amused twist of Merlin's lips, and his cocked eyebrow.

"Merlin."

"I've just read your notice," Arthur wants to kick him a little bit for the "duh..." expression on his face, but restrains himself, saying "I...I'm interested."

The eyebrow goes up again, and the man looks Arthur up and down.

Arthur fights the blush that rises without his permission and loses.

He clears his throat again, "in the room... I'm interested in the room." Arthur holds out the paper Merlin had pinned up a minute ago.

"I can pay the rent, and I'm not a dickhead." He gives what he hopes is a charming grin.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that. Do you want to come and see the place this afternoon? I've got some stuff to do now," he waves vaguely at the shelves in front of them.

"OK. Should I meet you back here?"

Merlin is smiling faintly, and he nods, "see you at three."

He turns back to searching the rows, and Arthur walks away, a little too aware of the heat in his face and pooling behind his navel.

***

It only takes a day to have his things moved into the new flat. Two weeks pass and Arthur settles into life alongside Merlin easily. The flat is only empty during the day when they're both in class, or in the library between classes.

Arthur wonders at how he could have gone so long without human contact. He's surrounded by people all day, but that's never been a guarantee of conversation.

Now he has breakfast with Merlin every morning, murmuring quietly and waking up over their tea, asking to pass the marmite, or the milk. Sometimes they'll be in the library at the same time at the end of the morning, so they'll go around the corner to get lunch. In the evening, if Merlin isn't working, he'll cook something spicy and colourful, and sit cross-legged on the couch beside Arthur and watch the news and talk about his lectures.

Merlin's been something of a revelation to Arthur.  Merlin read English at Queens, he hadn't been judgemental of Arthur's name, and he hadn't asked why he was sharing a place when he could afford to live somewhere much more comfortable and decadent than this place, without the suspicious stains on the carpets, and the dodgy burner on the cooker.

Merlin had become a friend. He didn't laugh a lot, but he had a sly wit, and was cheeky, and he smirked when he made Arthur laugh, which was often.

Merlin had been a bit cagey and coy when, a week after he had moved in, Arthur asked what his part-time job was. Arthur almost wished he hadn't asked when Merlin finally relented and told him he made a bit of money as an artist’s model, and by posing for life-drawing classes. Arthur had gone bright red and dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter, choking on a mouthful of rice and lamb.

Merlin had laughed at him for that, and grinned for the rest of the night as Arthur avoided eye contact.

It's been two weeks since he moved in, and ten days since Arthur got past his feelings of propriety and staunch refusal to wank over his flatmate.

At first glance, Merlin was all gawky and big-eared and sticky-outy. Arthur thinks he shouldn't really be as stunning as he is, by rights. He's a bit clumsy and his mouth is too wide, elbows too pointy. But Arthur doesn't mind those things.

He sprawls on his bed late at night, stroking himself gently as he stares at the ceiling, picturing Merlin. Merlin's fingers, Merlin's lips. Merlin's long legs. Merlin's dark hair, wet from the shower - a line of it dark above the towel wrapped twice round his slim hips. Merlin's filthy grin when Arthur loses another fight with his blushes. Merlin's cheekbones... mother of god, Merlin's cheekbones. Arthur closes his eyes, fucking his fist hard now, picturing Merlin's cheeks painted with hot, white stripes.

When the heat is finally gone from his belly, and he tosses the sodden bundle of tissues into the bin across the room, Arthur feels a tug of shame. But the next morning he smiles at Merlin over his tea and tells himself he'll stop. Until two days later, when Merlin licks something sticky from his lips, or walks, dripping, from the bathroom to his bedroom in his towel.

***

Arthur still works hard, and he still enjoys his classes and likes being at home and having company. Things only start to get difficult when Merlin brings a friend home one night.

"Hey Arthur. This is my mate, Will. Will, my flatmate, Arthur."

Arthur stands up from where he's sitting on the couch, putting his book aside. He reaches out a hand and smiles.

"Pleased to meet you, Will."

Will doesn't smile back, just nods and grips Arthur's hand for a long moment.

Merlin rolls his eyes indulgently at Will, and pulls him into the kitchen.

"Come help me with dinner, wanker."

Arthur sits back down, frowning at Will's back as Merlin pulls him by the hand through the door.

He tries to find his place in his textbook again, and had just started reading when he hears a distinctly wet smacking noise coming from the other room. Arthur focuses his eyes on the words with determination, but he can't help scowling at the page when he hears Merlin snicker softly, and murmur "stop it...oi! stop it, you bloody oaf. Dinner before pudding."

Arthur's grateful that Merlin isn't there to see what is no doubt his most spectacular blush to date. He pushes his books into his bag and takes the whole lot to his room, shutting the door and sagging against it.

He'd only just started to toy with the idea in his head, of asking Merlin out. He’d figured that by now a boyfriend or girlfriend would have been mentioned in conversation, or would have come over to stay the night. This, apparently, was that night. Merlin had given him time to settle in, to feel at home and comfortable.

Arthur rubs his face with his hands, tells himself how stupid he'd been to think that someone like Merlin would be unattached. He feels particularly grateful that he hasn't already made a complete dick of himself by asking Merlin out. At least now he doesn't have to be shot down, and deal with the awkward aftermath of that.

***

Arthur forces himself to behave normally during dinner. He ignores the fleeting, flirting touches Will gives Merlin, who brushes off the attention to eat and sip his wine. He tries to make conversation and polite chat with Will, in what he hopes is his usual way.

When the plates are empty, he says he'll take care of the dishes, waving away Merlin's offer to help. Will is clearly glad to be shot of him, if the swift opening and closing of Merlin's bedroom door, followed shortly by the sudden blare of loud music from within is any clue.

Arthur fills the sink, scalding his hand when he turns the hot water on more forcefully than he means to. He scrubs at the dinner plates and tries concentrating on the notes he made during the day’s lectures. By the time he's finished drying the dishes, and put away all the warm, dry cutlery his hands have stopped shaking.

He brushes his teeth and rinses with mouthwash, grimacing at the sting before spitting into the bathroom sink. Music is still blaring from Merlin's room, but there is no way Arthur is going to ask him to turn it down.

Slipping beneath his duvet, Arthur squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his pillow, curling his knees up to his chest.

He deliberately empties his head and lets the music seeping through the walls fade into the background, so he can drift to sleep.

It works for a while, until a loud moan washes over the music, followed by Will's voice groaning, "Merlin...fuck, Merlin."

Arthur feels his palms prickle with sweat. Knowing what's happening in the other room is one thing, hearing it, another entirely.

More moans puncture the music, some long and low, some choked and gasping and desperate. Arthur hates himself for the way his cock hardens as the sounds reach him, the moans, and broken grunts and    
oh, God, Merlin...fuck...oh God, yeah...right there...

It carries on, always the same voice. Arthur never hears Will's name moaned, he doesn't hear Merlin's voice at all. His prick remains traitorously hard, leaking stickily onto his thigh. It takes another ten minutes of grunts and moans and worshipping words over the now ineffective music, for Arthur to give in and close his hand around himself.

He twists to lay on his back, closing his eyes and licking his palm before returning it to fist his cock. He covers his mouth with his other hand to stifle the moan that escapes him, and wanks hard and fast, picturing what Merlin could be doing to earn such emphatic, enthusiastic praises.

***

Arthur forces himself to leave his room the next morning, determined to sit across from Merlin and drink his tea like he hadn't heard him being worshipped as some sort of...cock-god for hours on end.

He's surprised and quietly pleased to see Merlin sitting alone at the table, eating his toast. He can't hear the shower, so Will must already be gone.

"Morning." Arthur tries to sound chirpy, but his voice sounds strange in his ears.

"G'morning, Arthur. Made your tea already." Arthur sits and tries not to focus on the reasons for Merlin sounding a bit more gravelly than usual.

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Arthur is taking a sip from his mug when Merlin clears his throat and speaks.

"Sorry about the noise last night."

Arthur can't look at him, so he keeps looking into his milky tea when he replies,"no problem. I've slept through loud music before."

There's a long pause before Merlin speaks again.

“The music isn't why you can't look me in the eye."

Arthur keeps staring into his tea, but he can feel Merlin's smirk, so he scowls into it.

He doesn't look up, and he doesn't answer when Merlin calls, "see you later," from the front door.

***

Merlin doesn't mention Will, and he doesn't bring him around again. After a few days things go back to normal between Arthur and Merlin, without the awkwardness and light, tentative conversations where they breathe in the wrong places.

Arthur can still feel something strange hanging around them, though they joke and talk and eat together like mates again. He thinks he feels Merlin's eyes on him sometimes, but whenever he turns his head to check, he’s never looking.

He's given up pretending that he has any control over his libido where Merlin is concerned. The pull of guilt each time he spills into his hand or a wad of tissues is still there, but he's stopped telling himself    
not again, no more.

About a week after Will's visit, Arthur is wandering around the flat waiting for Merlin to get home. He’d told Arthur he'd be working until seven, but not to cook, he'll bring some take-out home.

It's six, and dark outside as the news starts. Arthur can't bring himself to open his book and look over his scrawled lecture notes, so he tidies up the flat a bit, clearing away piles of books and small messes. He keeps glancing at Merlin's bedroom door and looking away again.

When he's finished putting everything in its right spot he treads lightly toward the closed door.

He checks his watch again to make sure Merlin won't be home soon, and turns the knob slowly, heart racing with anticipation, and with guilt.

Arthur leaves the door ajar behind him and looks around, not bothering to turn the light on. Desk. Wardrobe. Bin. Chair. Bed. Arthur eyes the dented pillow and rumpled sheets longingly before looking at the bedside table. There's a box of tissues sat beside an alarm clock, and front and centre stands a bottle of lube.

His heart's beating faster as he checks his watch again. Arthur lets out a sigh of relief, and takes two more steps into the room after pushing the door shut.

He peeks at the wrinkled sheets again before he looks at the walls. He can't help the small sound he lets out when he spots the large portrait hanging beside the window.

It must have been a gift from one of the students who practiced their anatomy skills on Merlin's lean white form. There's no background, or context, except for the cloth-covered table beneath long pale limbs and shocks of black hair.

Arthur stares at the oil-and-pastel Merlin. The dark hair is there, as are the big blue eyes. Shading has highlighted the jut of his cheekbones and the curved swell of his lips. Arthur can't help moving closer to the large portrait, admiring the skill and the subject.

Merlin’s leaning back on his arms, one long leg tucked beneath him as the other hangs from the table he sits upon. His ankles look delicate. The hair from his bellybutton, leading to his groin and surrounding his pale cock, is as dark as it is on his head.

Arthur wonders at how relaxed Merlin looks. How comfortable he must be, with his own body, to sit in front of strangers with his bollocks out like that. There's still a hint of the gawky limbs, and Arthur smiles as he sees the scale of pastel-Merlin's ears, but he looks beautiful rendered with care onto thick white paper. The word 'coltish' flickers into Arthur's mind and he rolls his eyes at his own girlishness.

He creeps out of Merlin's room away from his tissues and his sheets, and immortalised perfection, and waits on the couch watching the TV, trying to absorb some of the words. Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat when he hears the lock on the front door turning, and he smiles up at Merlin as he calls out cheerily from the hall.

***  
Life carries on, and months pass. The weather changes and exams approach and are over with disconcerting swiftness.

Arthur hasn't managed to catch Merlin looking at him yet, and he hasn't worked up the nerve to ask what happened to Will, but Merlin doesn't mention him, and he doesn't bring him over, which is good enough for Arthur.

They go out to the local some nights, sink a pint or three. Arthur takes care not to drink too deeply, for fear of ending up leaning against Merlin and confessing all.

The night after they finish their last exams for the term they take several bottles of wine and a cheap bottle of sherry home. They've been celebrating since five in the afternoon, and it's just gone half-ten when Arthur stumbles in the front door ahead of Merlin, who's giggling at Arthur's struggle with his keys.

Merlin dances into the kitchen, singing to himself as he grabs some glasses. Arthur can't stop smiling as he shrugs out of his jacket and throws himself on the couch.

"Oi, shift, wanna sit."

Merlin's returned and is smiling down at Arthur and waving a half-full glass at him. Arthur reaches up and takes it, swallowing a large gulp of sweet sherry and staying right where he is.

"Oof!" Merlin has sat on his legs, "how are you so heavy? You're a bag of bones!"

Merlin giggles at that too, and Arthur tries to take a sip while his smile stretches across his face. He watches Merlin laugh, feels his stomach flip as he focuses on his throat, thick adam’s apple bobbing.

Arthur closes his eyes again, he doesn't want to look anymore. It's too much.

Merlin is apparently not comfortable enough, sitting on Arthur's shins, so he pushes one knee off the couch, and rests his back against the other before pulling Arthur's leg back and laying it on his lap.

Arthur's eyes are open again, watching Merlin rearrange his limbs. He takes another sip before waving his free hand imperiously at Merlin,

"Take off my shoes."

Merlin looks at him, mouth open and eyebrows raised, and asks,

"What am I your manservant or something?"

Arthur snorts and puts his glass down, shrugging one shoulder lazily,

"If you like."

Merlin chuckles again, calls him a prat and unties his shoelaces anyway.

Arthur smirks happily to himself, feeling warm and sleepy as his eyes drift shut. The jingle for a car ad starts. Merlin's flicked the telly on. Long calm moments flow into one another.

Arthur pretends to have fallen asleep when he feels Merlin slowly, carefully pull off one of his socks. His heart thuds in his ribcage, and he fights to keep his hands still on his chest.

It doesn't tickle, thankfully. Merlin's fingers curl confidently around his foot and circle with firm pressure into the arch. Arthur keeps his eyes closed, and hopes any pinkness in his face is blamed on the drink he's been pouring into himself all evening. He can feel Merlin's other hand holding his ankle gently, fingertips stroking the soft skin with with a slowness that makes Arthur ache.

It carries on for a few minutes, Arthur keeping his breath even and calm as Merlin expertly massages his foot. Eventually he stops. Arthur swallows a huff of disappointment.

Merlin places Arthur's foot back in his lap, and leans forward, twisting his body so he can slowly push Arthur's right leg up, bending it at the knee before he ducks behind it to settle that one in his lap too.

Merlin gently removes his other sock, and Arthur can feel his eyes burning his face, watching to see that he's still asleep. Arthur thinks he must have died and gone to heaven. He lets his ankle be manipulated by Merlin, and his heart skitters as he feels soft lips brush the delicate skin.

The skilled fingers make their return, so gentle that Arthur can't help the hum of pleasure that fills his mouth. Merlin stops, his hands still.

"Don't stop," Arthur keeps his eyes closed, figuring he doesn't want to risk waking himself if this is a dream, "feels good."

Nothing happens for another minute or so. When Merlin finally starts again, Arthur flat out moans. He imagines he can hear Merlin's smug grin, but he doesn't really care.

Arthur opens his eyes at last, lifting his head to look down his body, where Merlin is dipping his head again to brush his lips over the top of Arthur's foot. His eyes roll back in his head as he falls back into the cushion and groans.

Merlin does chuckle now, and Arthur doubts he's ever gotten so hard so fast when hears Merlin ask, "like that?"

Arthur pulls his feet from Merlin's lap, bracketing them around his waist to pull him up close. It's not as graceful as he'd imagined it would be. Merlin is laughing again as he rearranges himself so he's kneeling on the couch between Arthur's legs.

And isn't that a sight. Arthur groans again as he pulls Merlin down until their hips slot together, and Merlin has to hold himself up with his arms either side of Arthur's head. He can feel the hard line of Merlin's cock through his jeans, so he pushes up against it.

Merlin lifts his chin, making sure Arthur has his eyes open as he lowers his face and presses his lips to Arthur's. Arthur kisses him back, mind reeling and skin tingling.

He opens his mouth against Merlin's, coaxing his lips apart. He can taste the bitter wine in Merlin's mouth. One, or both of them moan into it, tongues flicking out to wet lips, to taste the smooth damp skin.

Arthur pulls back after several long minutes of slow, sweet, drugging kisses, looks up at Merlin, who's smiling with shining lips.

"What is this Merlin...what about Will?" He might want to punch himself in the face for asking it, and for sounding so desperate as he does, but Arthur needs to know.

Merlin keeps looking down at him, lips curved in a small smile, "Will's just a friend. Sometimes we'd just have a bit of fun together. That's all."

He dips his head again, reaching for another kiss, but Arthur pushes his head back further into the cushion.

"Is that what this is?" Arthur really wishes he could gag himself, but he can't go any further until he knows. "Is this just a bit of fun between friends?"

He waits, heart thumping wildly as Merlin looks at him, still and quiet.

Pendragons have never been known for their patience. The silence grows too long, and Arthur feels lead settle in his stomach as he shifts, trying to push himself up, to get away.

Merlin pushes him back down, and finally replies, his voice firm.

"It doesn't have to be."

Arthur looks up into the blue eyes smiling above him.

Eventually he nods, and says "Okay...that's...yeah. OK."

Merlin grins down at him, sliding a hand into Arthur's hair before crushing their mouths back together.

Arthur squawks as their teeth click awkwardly, but settles as Merlin licks at the corner of his mouth, and moans when their tongues slide against one another.

Merlin holds himself up as they kiss to make tiny circles with his hips, grinding himself down against Arthur with a frustrating lack of pressure.  
Arthur tries to fix this by grabbing onto his hips and pulling them down harder, pressing his aching cock up against Merlin's.

It works for a minute or two, but eventually Merlin pushes at his hands so he can pull back and look down at Arthur, flushed red with his hair everywhere and his lips swollen and slick.

Arthur feels a part of his brain melt and slide down his spine as Merlin smiles crooked and dirty, grinding his hips in a slow, wide circle.

"Merlin..."

"Mmm?" Another slow flick of Merlin's slim hips.

"Do you think this sofa might be a bit small for this?"

With that, the weight on his lap is gone, and Arthur opens his eyes as Merlin pulls him up from the sofa, marching them to his room.

\---------------------------------------

It takes only seconds to get them both naked and horizontal. Arthur vaguely thinks ‘now I won’t need to pinch myself’ when Merlin straddles him and takes one of his nipples in his mouth, biting gently.

Arthur rests his hands on Merlin's hips, stroking the sharp bones with his thumbs and marvelling at the paleness of his skin. Merlin carries on licking and sucking at his nipples with one hand fisted in Arthur’s hair again.

Arthur groans as he feels Merlin’s teeth again, biting his nipple harder. His hips jerk up as Merlin drags his open mouth up from his chest, licking a wide stripe across a collarbone before eating hot kisses onto his neck.

"Merlin...nng, Merlin..."

Merlin carries on sucking and licking his neck, moaning against his skin and reaching down to move one of Arthur's hands from his hip to his cock.

Arthur grabs it greedily, squeezing and pulling. Merlin groans against Arthur's neck, bucking his hips forward for more. He lays his face on Arthur's chests as his hand scrabbles at the nightstand, reaching for a bottle. Merlin grabs it and hums in satisfaction as he flicks the top open and pours a stream of cool, viscous liquid over Arthur's fingers.

Arthur parts his fingers, letting the oil pool between them before gliding his hand up and twisting his wrist around the head of Merlin's cock. His own erection jerks against his belly when Merlin groans above him, and breathes, "yeah, Arthur... s’good."

He watches Merlin watching him, squeezing possessively as Merlin rocks into his fist, panting. Arthur reaches up a hand to stroke Merlin's cheek, ghosts his fingers over those sharp cheekbones and feels his cock twitch against his belly again.

Merlin mirrors Arthur’s movements, but after a moment he presses his middle finger to Arthur's lips, pressing gently. Arthur keeps his eyes on him as he parts his lips, and Merlin presses in.

He keeps watching as Merlin's hips stutter forward, and his eyes fall half-closed as he watches Arthur sucking his finger. Another surge of arousal tides over him as he watches Merlin moan above him, staring at Arthur's lips as he pushes his finger in, out, in again.

After a moment, he pulls back, and Merlin is kissing him again, hard and hungry as he shifts back, pushing Arthur's legs apart to settle in the vee.

Arthur feels Merlin reach down between them, groans into his mouth when feels Merlin's wet finger sliding behind his balls, stroking softly at his perineum before pressing slowly, firmly into him.

Merlin is panting, lips slack as he looks at Arthur and asks, "feels good?"

Arthur closes his eyes, just nods, afraid he'll fly apart if he can't focus on something specific in the middle of the wave of sensations. He concentrates on Merlin's harsh breathing, and his finger slowly pushing inside, careful and insistent.

"Really good...fuck..." Arthur groans. Merlin groans with him, like he can feel it too, the exquisite pressure pushing inside Arthur.

Arthur forces his eyes open, and winds his fingers through Merlin's hair to pull him close again. Long, slow minutes pass as they kiss with jaws wide and hungry, sliding lip against lip to wallow in the softness, while saliva slicks their chins.  
All the while Merlin slides his finger into Arthur over and over, slow and louche, agonisingly unhurried as Arthur grows more impatient.

"More, Merlin...need more." Arthur wants to demand he get on with it, but it feels too good to get properly irritable, so he settles for pleading with his hips instead, arching up into the movement of Merlin's wrist.

Merlin grins down at him, untangling his fingers from Arthur's hair to reach for the bottle of oil again. He leans up a bit so he can pour it into the palm of the hand he has crooked between Arthur's thighs. Merlin watches Arthur's face as he tilts his hand.

The cool liquid slides down his fingers and hits the place where Arthur's body is taking him in, making Merlin shiver and Arthur swear.

Merlin lays back over Arthur, carefully pushing his ring finger in beside the middle, mouthing at Arthur's jaw as he shakes beneath him.

"Wanted this, Arthur. Wanted you... watched you and wanted you."

Arthur wants to yell, I bloody knew it! but just then, Merlin's fingertips graze his prostate and he can only arch his back, pushing himself down to bring that feeling back.

Merlin's still murmuring in his ear, gripping his hair as he fucks Arthur open with his fingers, and Arthur can't help the long moan he lets out as he feels it again.

"Gorgeous, Arthur... fucking gorgeous... wanted you like this, under me...hard, aching, begging for me, wanting me back," Merlin moans into his ear, bucking his hips against Arthur's thigh.

Arthur forces himself to look at Merlin and concentrate and ask "what were you waiting for?" He can't help the groan that breaks his sentence off, Merlin's added a third finger and another dollop of oil, "...are you -ah- are you saying we could've...uhh...been doing this for weeks? months?"

Arthur feels Merlin huff a laugh beneath his ear, "I wasn't sure...I didn't want to risk fucking it all up..."

He wants to scream, and then he nearly does, because Merlin rotates his wrist sharply before flicking it back again.

"Mothering fuck, Merlin... more...want you to tell me..." Arthur wonders why this has never felt so good before. He has a niggling suspicion but it’s swiftly booted out of the way for the time being, along with any other coherent thought, when Merlin shimmies down his body and wraps his lips around Arthur's leaking cock.

"Fuck!"

Merlin pushes firmly on Arthur's hip to keep him still when he bucks violently into the wet heat and suction of Merlin's mouth. Merlin draws back up and swirls his tongue around the darkened head before bobbing back down.

His other hand is still busy, fingers wet and firm pushing in with practiced flicks of his wrist. He keeps going after he pulls off Arthur's cock with a wet slurp.

Arthur is grinding down on Merlin's hand as he pulls the man back up to his chest.

"Wanted to tell you, Arthur... wanted to wake you up with my mouth, my hand." Arthur is delirious by now, sweating as he clings to Merlin and gasps for more... please... more

Merlin is grinding his own aching prick into Arthur's hip now, whispering in his ear and pushing his fingers inside him.

"I wanted to get on my knees for you... rub my face all over your...uhh...cock, show...ungh...show you how badly I want you..."

Merlin brushes against that spot again, and Arthur's orgasm hits him like a punch to the gut, sudden and overwhelming. Merlin holds onto him as he comes down. Fingers still buried deep, he presses his face to Arthur's neck and snaps his hips faster, coming with a gasp all over their hips and bellies and ribs.

Arthur struggles to catch his breath, and shivers when Merlin's fingers slip gently from his body. He feels but doesn't see Merlin wipe his skin clean with a cloth. It's only when Merlin's finished cleaning them off, and pulled the duvet over them both that Arthur's caught his breath enough to mumble.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything."

Merlin huffs a sleepy laugh against Arthur's chest where he lays his head.

"You didn't say anything either."

Arthur rolls his eyes in the dark, not caring that Merlin can't see, "yeah, well I thought you had a boyfriend, didn't I?"

Merlin laughs some more, pinching Arthur's side, "well, don't feel too bad. It's been clear from day one that I'm the brains of this outfit."

Arthur snorts and pulls Merlin closer, nosing his dark hair and falling to sleep before he can think of a comeback.

 


End file.
